The Vermont watchman. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1883-1911, 1887-02-02

bell )" he confided to the little boy next
door; he's promised to take me way
up, too, where | can see the whanger."
1t was the last week in July. The par
sonage roof was going on rapidly and
the Browns were almost ready to move,
when letter came from an old friend,
asking him to supply his pulpit for
month. Bridget and our house are
at your disposal" wrote DIR. Wheat.
"Zoar is just now delightful. The .
change will do you good, and may lead
to something; so hope you will come,
and bring with you Mrs. Brown and
little Peter Paul. Reply at once"
The Browns needed no urging.
" will take only two sermons" Mr..
Brown said, thoughtfully. "The doc
tor has a choice collection of books.
shall have leisure, and / think will
write course on the PARALLELS while l
am there"
And shall have a chance for an
afternoon nap-perhaps," sighed his
wife.
structure of dark-red brick, and COM
manded from its upper windows a dis
tant glimpse of the sea. 1t stood, as
did their new home at South Turkey
vile, between an alley and the high
wall at the end of the Westinghouse.
The entrance hall was wainscoted with
fine woods. The fire-places were set
with tiles. The gas-fxtures were in
the latest taste. Every room in the
house, especially the study, was finished
in a refined and substantial fashion,
and the Rev. Bartholomew Brown set
tied himself to pick out the Sunday
morning hymns with the half-envious
reflection that here was church that
had some idea of the needs of pastor
But across his meditations came the
heavy clangor of the bell, high up in the
lofty spire, and few moments later
distracting buzzing, growing and roar
ing began, which pervaded the house
with its tremor. whats that?n cried
Mr.. Brown, bouncing up.
" Bartholomew" replied his wife,
"that's the big organ.'
The true history of the sufferings of
the Browns during the month that fol-
lowed could only be written by them
selves. So far from writing a " course"
or even one sermon, Mr.. Brown tele-
graphed Josh Ruby to send him by
express the first" barrel full I" he came
to. DR.. Wheat's Westinghouse held
the town clock, which told them the
night-watches in tones that drove sleep
from their eyelids and made sleep by
day equally impossible. Every morn
ing Timothy Tittlebug, the dry and
withered old sexton, aired the base
ment of the sanctuary and whied away
the tedium by practicing the first four
bars of Greenville, or the first part of
Coronation, on the reed organ, which,
after its kind, was both wheezy and
squeaking. After nine O'Clock there
was continuous procession of musical
geniuses, belonging to or affiliated with
the church, who practiced on the great
organ. There was absolutely no es-
cape from the sound of it in the house,
and even little Peter Pauls ears became
so exhausted he said, querulously:
g wish God would let me be dog
spell, so could howl, awful"
"rd niver took the place, but there
was no childer, an me hearin' were
spilled intoirely by wurkin' to boardin'-
house by biler-factory, an then at a
deypot ating-house, where an injne
bust" said Bridget, alphabetically,
when, through little Peter Paul, she
learned the tortures of the Browns.
"The doctor is def in one ear, an he
fills th' other wild a chunk o. tally in a
bit o. rag when he is wantin' to think
Missis is allays goin' to some place, an
its loikely she hears so much claver she
don't moind any noise no more"
"What are we going to do when
we are in our house?" said Mrs. Brown,
disparingly, as the day of departure
drew near. AT least six girls practice
on our organ"
Mercy - cried Mr.. Brown, starting
up, while a heavy rumble of pedal
bass shook the windows, "I'll never
live in that house. Neverr
go, Bartholomew" cried his wife,
putting her hands to her temples.
81 declare" he said, pacing the floor
rapidly, GIVE sometimes felt during
the past weeks as if-I'd never been
converted" and his voice almost broke
into sob. 81 know | haven't the
grace-or the constitutional live be-
side big organ"
Providence remembers our frame,
and we are rarely tried beyond our
strength. Before the day was over
Mr.. Brown received pressing invita-
ton to become the pastor of church
just starting into life on the confines of
the city, Without much ado the invi-
tation was accepted, and South Turkey
vile, grieved and veXed, held fare
well social in the new parsonage, in
stead of warming.
"They amt got no house fer ye,''
said Mr.. Featherly, argumentatively.
4" Thought you hated movin' round"
"It isn't the worst thing that can
happen to minister" said Mr.. Brown,
gently. {" am cultivating more con
tented spirit, deacon"
Mr.. Brown lives in a house of his
own now. 1t is in quiet neighbor-
hood and is surrounded by wide
margin of land, though land is sold by
the inch in Zoar. His sermons have
grown more spiritual in temper and
more perfect in style, and he finds more
time for pastoral visiting since he has
occupied this home. His flock hold
him in the highest esteem and honor,
and he has name in the denomina-
ton; but in the minds of few of the
old members of the South Turkeyville
church there turks a suspicion that he
is what is known as "not quite sound. -
This suspicion will never be laid, but
it grew out of the innocent candor of
little Peter Paul, who, while playing